His Muse
by Bandwardcontest
Summary: A story of a bartender, the boy she watched play music, and their unraveling.


**Pairing: Edward/Bella**

**Genre: Drama**

**Summary: ****A story of a bartender, the boy she watched play music, and their unraveling.**

**Word count: 8,340**

**Rated:M**

**Disclaimer: The author does not own any of the publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**His Muse**

She's watched him, from behind the bar, the second Saturday night of every month. He doesn't get any special favors, and not a soul alive knows she'd give anything to have him play her like he does his guitar.

His performance was always perfect, not a note was skipped or sang out of tune. His talent was clear to everyone who heard him sing, but she could see what they all missed - he lacked soul. Sex dripped off him the way he held the neck of his guitar with his long skilled fingers, moved his hips, and sang into the microphone - it made every girl there want him. Even those who were already with someone thought about getting him alone and seeing if he gave it as well as he looked like he would. But the pretty boy lead singer had never felt pain, sorrow, longing - any of the emotions that yield the best songs. To sing of a love lost without ever knowing true love, simply doesn't work. His heart wasn't in it and his ego did little to make up for it.

The first time she heard his deep-smoker-raspy-sexy voice sing Crazy Love, her heart thumped so hard it scared her. Looking up to see this guy with messy long auburn hair and a chiseled jaw, made her long to feel his body along hers and show him what love really was. She seen him smile at a girl in the crowd; he was obviously singing to get laid and knew what songs to use. The twenty-something that she was serving broke her reverie however when she said, "Oh! This must be an original song of his. I've never heard it before."

With a scoff, Iz informed her, "That's Van Morrison, honey. Don't ask me who that is either. Go," she said waving her arm at the girl as someone would chase away flea infested dog. "Run along and Google it before I lose my shit."

"No threatening the paying customers, Iz," said Jake, the owner of the bar with a smile.

"She thought this was Mr. Hot-stuff Douchebag's original song! You don't need those kinds of customers."

"I don't care if they think he wrote fucking Stairway to Heaven. And no insulting the band either. They keep this place packed and us selling booze." Jake had to wonder why she cared so much. She made it clear what bands she liked and disliked but never quite like this.

"Whatever. I'm heading down to the coolers to stock-up."

"Leah's bar backing tonight, tell her what you're low on. I need you serving." Something had her frazzled and he couldn't help but wonder if it was -stuff.

Iz never showed any physical attraction to men or women; even her clothing was androgynous. Her long brown hair was parted far to the left, with the right side braided back in cornrows. She favored loose fitting jeans worn with button down collared shirts and sleeveless tanks underneath. Doc Martens of one color or another were always on her feet, and she was never seen without her eyeliner done in perfect thin black lines, making everyone wonder if it was tattooed on. There was a heart made of words inked between her breasts that could be seen when she'd lean out far across the bar to reach a customer but neither Jake, nor anyone else had any idea what it said. They didn't know of the words that graced her spine or ribs. Or the bars that ran through her nipples.

The focus of Iz's desire and irritation was her complete opposite. Edward was a ladies' man. They'd all seen and heard his weekly female conquests. His tattoos were there for show, chosen out of a book or off the wall. Classic americana ink of sparrows, skulls, pinups and anchors, colored in the pale skin of his arms and chest. His hair was kept in perfect disarray by products purchased at high end salons. He wore fake vintage t-shirts custom tailored to show off his thin but muscular physique with jeans and that sat perfectly on his narrow hips.

Edward was bored and called for a short break. He motioned for the girl he'd eyed in the crowd to come around the stage and led her out the side door into the back parking lot.

"Hey, what's your name?" Edward asked as he placed his hand on her lower back to usher her behind a car. Rubbing his thumb in slow circles on her spine he got her to relax.

"It's Jessica. And I already know you're Edward." She smiled, turned to face him, and laid her hands on his chest. She'd been coming to his shows for months in hopes of getting him alone.

He moved his hands to her ass and smiled back. "You're fucking gorgeous. How about you give me head now and after the show I'll rock your little world?"

The girl looked around them, down at the gravel, and asked, "Here?"

"Yeah, babe. Right here." He leaned against the wall, undid his belt and pulled out his dick. He held her by the back of the head and shoved his tongue into her mouth before slowly pushing her onto her knees.

Jessica hesitated, but the liquor and weed pulsing through her system helped her ditch all inhibition. She found him so attractive and when he sang he made her wet with desire. Thoughts of him asking her to be his, if she was good enough at getting him off, sprung her into action. She slowly licked his precum away but he had no interest in going slow. He used his thumb to open her lips wider and then to hold her jaw steady as he fucked her mouth. He came in minutes without warning, leaving Jessica choking at his feet as he fastened his pants.

She stood up slowly and thought maybe she was so good that it took him by surprise. He saw that she was trying to kiss him but he had no desire to know what his dick tasted like. "Not happening, babe. I'll catch you after the show." He slapped her ass and went back inside. The whole interaction was so short, the guys thought he'd been taking a leak.

Singing the same shit every weekend and getting head from the same broads was getting old. It reminded him of the boredom he felt as a young kid. His mom heard him singing along to a cartoon and thought he had a beautiful voice. She took him to their church's choir director, who confirmed that he was quite talented for a boy of only eight. Aro took him under his wing, taught him to read music and polished his sound.

In a year's time, Edward was singing for churches nearly every week. There was no time for sports, playing, and barely time for school work. He was doing the Lord's work, bringing people to their knees with his voice. According to Aro, Edward's singing could "turn a sinner to a saint and lead a lost flock back to its shepherd."

The attention was fun at first, but singing the same stuff all the time was boring. He was nearly a celebrity at ten years old. He got all the attention he could ever want, and he lived for it. But as people started to ask him about his faith and say how God had blessed him with a gift, Edward retreated. He didn't care about God; _he_ was the talented one, he gave up playing baseball and having friends, people came to hear _him_. He wasn't taking the backseat to anyone, and certainly not someone he didn't even believe in.

He started listening to the radio more and memorizing the songs he heard. He found that singing the newest pop songs at school made all the girls want to date him, which in turn made all the guys want to hang out with him. By thirteen, he had stopped all associations with Aro and was busy seeing how fast he could round the bases with the girls he dated. Carlisle and Esme Cullen, his parents, were sure it was just a phase, an adolescent rebellion. They were wrong. By day, he sang for commercials and cartoons - anything to make a buck. He joined Crunching Vinyl, an alternative rock cover band, to always know the high of playing for a crowd and being boy who once sang for God now only sang for himself, and never looked back to see their broken hearts.

Edward shook off the memories of his past and rejoined the guys on stage and started singing Audioslave's, I am the Highway. He sang it lower than Cornell and removed all inflection.

_I am not your rolling wheels - I am the highway_

_I am not your carpet ride - I am the sky_

_I am not your autumn moon - I am the night_

As he sang, it was clear that, for once, he believed it. It took on a creepy-sinister tone and it was obvious he thought he needed no one but himself and could care less about anyone else.

"Edward, you sang shit not on the set list twice tonight. What the fuck are you doing?" Ben, theband's drummer asked, as soon as he finished the song.

Edward's forehead wrinkled in disbelief of what he was hearing. "I'm doing what I want. No one is here to listen you fuckers play, they're here for me," he said, without trying to hide the disgust in his voice.

"Hey, asshole," Mike the guitarist chimed in. "They're here for the music. No one wants to hear all acoustic versions of the shit we play."

The crowd stood there, watching the band's demise. They heard what an ass the front man was being and felt pity for the rest of them. But like a car wreck, they couldn't look away. Angela, Ben's girlfriend, walked onto the stage in an attempt to quiet them down and get them back to playing.

Edward chuckled when he seen her approach and decided he'd had enough. "Hey, I remember you. Or should I say I remember those lips around my dick while I held your glasses."

Ben stood up, knocking his stool over and lunged for Edward's throat. "Don't talk about her like that! You're thinking of someone else!"

"No. I'm not. It was last weekend. You passed out next to me and your girl thought she put her head in your lap. She choked herself on my dick, since she was expecting your smaller one, but looked up at me and kept going." Angela's face turned the deepest shade of red any of them had ever seen in the flesh. Ben cocked his arm back to swing at him. "Don't get all bent yet. I didn't tell you the best part about how I fucked her doggie style. I wouldn't forget a pussy that tight. Thanks, man, for not stretching it out." As Edward winked, Ben snapped and gave him a right hook to the face. Edward wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, jumped off the small stage and walked to the bar, swaying on his feet the whole way.

Iz watched it all go down and packed a napkin full of ice when she saw him approaching the bar. She handed it to him and set out two shot glasses. She poured in equal amounts of Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker Black, and Jim Beam, and passed one to the beautiful boy with the now broken face. "What the fuck is this?" he asked.

"It's a _three wise men_ and it looks like you could use some wisdom, asshole."

She tilted her head back and enjoyed the burn as the dark liquid traveled down her throat and warmed her belly. He leaned forward and tried to drink it without letting the liquor burn his split lip, but failed.

"Mother fucker! That hurts!" He put the shot down and held the ice back to his lips.

"Hey, dumbfuck. It will numb the cut and take the edge off. Shoot it like a man and get your ass off my bar. You're scaring away my tips." And making me want to kiss away your pain, she thought. The bad boy thing never attracted her, so why did he? He reminded her of a dog at the pound who barked and snarled to scare everyone off but pissed himself if you tried to pet him. She wasn't looking for a project, so why did she feel this pull to him?

"You're a bitch." He spit the words at her, thinking how dare a fucking _bartender _talk to him like that.

"And?" She had to hold back her laughter. As if that was an insult.

"You should try getting laid more often."

"Hon, I could do more for myself with one finger in two minutes than you ever could with your dick."

"You obviously don't know me." He studied her eyes and shivered. It was like she could see right through all his bullshit and knew there was nothing there.

"I know you enough. I hear your grunts as you get off every time you play here. But I never hear the girls you're boning, or see you with the same one twice." Iz picked up a rag and started wiping down the bar around him and took away the empties.

"I think you pay too much attention to someone you never even met." He mumbled and walked away, wondering if she was right and how he never noticed her before.

She finished wiping up and took care of her customers before lighting a cigarette to calm her nerves. She thought of how she long she had worked to make everyone around her think she was a bitch. How long it took for everyone to avoid her. To confuse both sexes so that nearly no one approached her.

She was alone in this world and wished to keep it that way. She knew love, loss, loneliness - and preferred the latter. She wrapped her arm around herself and pushed her fingers into her ribs where the words of Bob Marley were inked into her skin_:You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice._

When she chose to chase her dreams of being a singer, she chose independence. When she didn't succeed, all she had left was herself and the words of her idols. Isabella stopped trying to obtain a career in singing and went to work. The world and it's rejection hardened her, but made her stronger. She never fell into the trap of sleeping her way to the top or pretending to love country music where female voices were more welcome than in alternative rock. She stayed true to herself and had the words of Janis Joplin tattooed on her chest lest she forget: _Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got._

"You sure know how to call them, Iz. Watch yourself with him." Leah tilted her head toward Edward.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I had a drunken he's-fuck-hot-I-want-to-bang-the-lead-singer moment. He's got a nice dick but has no clue what he's doing with it. Unless you can get yourself off in under five minutes, it's not worth the ride." Leah's mouth turned like she was going to be sick the longer she talked about him.

Edward was setting up to play again since Jake had informed him someone had to finish out the set. With only his voice and a guitar he should have picked songs that sounded good without a band but chose instead to show what an asshole he truly was.

"This song is for my now, EX backup band, and the bitch behind the bar."

Leah patted Iz's shoulder and said, "Sounds like you made quite the impression. Be careful."

Edward sang the opening lines to Afraid by The Neighborhood and Iz looked down. She knew what was coming but couldn't figure out why it stung like it did. He looked her in the eye and spewed the lyrics at her like venom.

_You're too mean, I don't like you, fuck you anyway_

_You make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs_

_It hurts but I won't fight you_

_You suck anyway_

He watched as the crowd dwindled down and he sang whatever came to mind first in no particular order, thinking they were really all there to hear him sing. He was wrong. Without a band behind him, it was a strange version of open mic night with a guy singing acoustic alternative rock. Jake told him to give it up half an hour early and turned on the radio in hopes of keeping some of the crowd from leaving.

Iz mixed up Amaretto, Southern Comfort, and sours, in a tumbler and then poured it into a row of shot glasses. She told Leah to deliver one to Edward on her. "What is it?"

"It's called a _piece of ass_. Lord knows it's the only one he'll be getting tonight."

***His muse***

"Dude, you bring in a good crowd but you have to find a sound that works if you want to play here again." Jake was met by Edward's blank, clueless stare and thought Iz sure had the douchebag part right. "Why don't you stop by some Tuesday for acoustic night to get a feel for it. Brush up on some songs by Cash, Dylan, Young - you know... dudes who sound good with just a guitar."

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to sing?" Edward asked incredulously.

"I'm the dude giving you a gig. Get it together or don't come back." He walked to his office, pissed off that some idiot got under his skin. Seeing Leah walking towards him made all his anger fade. He smiled and reached out to her. Leah set her bar tray down and held onto his jaw as he held onto her waist. Their lips met and tongues tangled in a hungry need for release. She pulled back first and smiled up at him.

"Can we continue this once I finish working? I don't want anyone to think I'm just the owner'sgirlfriend."

"Yeah, Leah. That's a good idea. Get back to work." He smiled so she knew he was razzing her, and she walked away swinging her hips knowing he'd be drooling like a dog behind her.

Leah walked over to where Edward was packing up his guitar and handed him the shot. She told him exactly what Iz had instructed her to and he laughed. He laughed hard enough for his eyelids to crinkle and all his teeth show.

"Tell her thanks." He took the shot and placed the glass back on Leah's tray.

"Not bad. She's a pretty good bartender."

"Psh. That's nothing. You need to hear her sing."

"She sings?" he asked, his voice full of doubt and outrage.

"Yeah. She'll be here Tuesday, filling in."

Leah walked away and left him wondering if maybe the bartender was such a bitch because she was jealous. She couldn't possibly be better than him. Could she?

He looked behind the bar and saw her watching him while smoking a cigarette. Her arm was wrapped around her waist, showing off just how tiny it was and just how full her tits really were. The urge to replace her fingers with his own was overwhelming. He left out the back, feeling utterly lost but eager for Tuesday night to arrive.

He spent Sunday on the roof of his apartment with his guitar and laptop. It passed the time and left him feeling ready to show Jake that he was good enough to play solo. His confidence soared until he walked into the bar and heard her. He heard the crowd clapping and whistling in excitement - they knew her. She was playing piano but he didn't recognize the song, though everyone in the room seemed to. He saw that she had replaced her work attire with a white knee length sweater and white pants. The knit was so loose that he could see straight through to her bra underneath, but not just her bra. Beautiful scripted words ran along her body, though he couldn't read them from across the room. Her hair was in loose curls and parted to lay over one shoulder. Black still lined her eyes but her lips were glossy baby pink and had him mesmerized.

Edward made his way to a table. As he sat, she began to sing, it was as though the world tilted on its axis. Time stopped and his life would never be the same. The words said about him years ago echoed through his brain: 'the voice of an angel making men see God'. He felt it in his soul how remarkable she was. He looked around the room and saw a regular crowd enjoying music and was furious. How did they not know? How were they not in awe with him? Iz sang the chorus one last time.

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

He listened to her and wanted nothing more than to go to her. To save her as she pleaded. The crowd clapped, and she smiled shyly, thanked them, and went right into playing a cover of the Tom Waits' song Ol' 55. She sure as hell didn't sound like she needed saved suddenly; her voice was hopeful and light. Fuck! She was good. She was really fucking good and he wanted to know how. He wanted her method, her thought that bothered him most was that she was a bartender. How does a talent like hers end up stifled behind a bar?

Iz sang like she was the only person listening. She sang for herself and the joy it brought her. It wasn't often she filled in for Jake and she refused to do so on a Saturday. But every couple months, on a quiet Tuesday night, it was nice to step back into the shoes of a performer.

She looked out at the crowd and saw him staring at her in awe. Her stomach flopped and she nearly missed a key. After finishing the song, she signaled to Jake for a break. She walked off stage to find a bottle of water and refocus.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" he asked.

"You already are," she said as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, yeah, well." He raised his arm to run his fingers through his hair but stopped just short of doing so. She could only guess how sticky his hands would be if he had. Instead, he grabbed the back of his neck and toed the floor in nervousness. "You're really good. Why the fuck are you a bartender?"

"Wow. I had no idea you were such a douchebag all the way through. Like to your fucking core, you're an asshole." She crossed her arms and stared him down. No one was going to look down on her for what she did to make a living. Even if he was beautiful, and the cut on his lip made him sexier, and his tattoos looked better up close. No. Fuck that.

"That came out wrong." He pleaded with his eyes for her to listen and understand. "I didn't mean to insult you. You just have such an amazing voice. I don't understand how no one has signed you and why you are singing for fifty people instead of fifty-thousand." She covered her lips with her fingers and took a deep breath, she was not going to let this ass affect her. "I am an asshole, but I'm an asshole who knows what he hears."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as if in pain and asked, "Would you help me? You sang and I wanted to run to you - to save you. I felt the desperation and pain in your voice. But then the next moment your voice was so light and happy; it made me smile and want to jump in a car with you. You make me feel... something. I've never experienced this before."

"Hold on." She closed her eyes and tried to process what he said. Maybe if she could keep from getting lost in his perfect sea-green eyes, things would make sense. "You've never listened to a song and felt anything before? How?" She shook her head in disbelief and went on. "That's what music is! It makes us feel joy, longing, lust, elation. You mean to tell me, you never listened to Let's Get It On, or Sexual Healing, and got turned on?"

His lips squished together at an odd angle, his forehead wrinkled, and his eyes squinted. "No. Not really."

"You never listened to Nirvana and felt like an angsty teen or Rage Against the Machine and felt rebellious anger?"

"Anger at who? What are you talking about?"

"I just listen to you spit a song at me last weekend. You only hear the lyrics and the tune. You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" he yelled.

"Anything!" Iz stared at the sparrows sticking out from under the v-neck of his t-shirt and tried to think of something that would click. Something obvious. "Okay. Maybe you have a religious background. What about Hallelujah Chorus or Amazing Grace, do you get goose bumps? Can you feel your soul humming along, like in recognition of God or a higher power?"

The look of confusion on his face was quickly replaced by rage and indignation as he shook his head. "No. Fuck no. If anything I just feel pissed off."

"How am I supposed to help you?"

"Tell me how to...how to sing like you do. How to make my audience feel like I do."

"Dude. That's not something you can learn." Pity for this poor clueless boy filled her. Clearly he was a man, at over six foot tall and with perfectly groomed scruff, but she could only see a confused little boy. "Why don't you try not watching porn for the next week. I want you to watch chick flicks or dramas, and music videos instead. Maybe it'll be clearer that way."

"Why would you assume I only watch porn?"

Hands on her hips with eyebrows lifted in question, Iz asked, "Am I wrong?"

Shame marred his features. "No."

"I'll see you next week then. I have to finish." She turned and headed back to the stage more startled than when she walked off.

Iz sang Shake it Out by Florence and the Machine and made it clear to him that no one would, or could, rattle her. She sang from a place deep in her soul and there wasn't a person in the crowd who didn't feel it.

Edward walked out of the bar, Googling chick flicks on his phone. In the morning, he called into the studio where he worked singing for commercials, and took the next week off, claiming he had a cold and was unable to sing. As he watched movie after movie, he wondered, was she dying? Was she madly in love with a rich guy? Maybe she had a kid or was a hooker on the side? Maybe she was broken hearted and needed him to save her. Maybe he could be her knight in shining armour. He watched kiss after kiss and studied how it was done. He wanted to hold her jaw and join his lips to her pink glossy ones. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and hear her sigh his name.

While he watched movie after movie and then video upon video trying to understand it all, Iz worked. She even picked up extra shifts to keep herself busy. Saturday night was packed for a Journey tribute band, and while she wasn't a fan, she was thankful for the break from him. Distance, she needed some distance before she gave in to her lust and tracked him down. She woke up every morning to his name on her lips and her hand between her legs. Even her favorite vibrator couldn't relieve the tension building in her. She wanted him like she had never wanted anyone before. Fear of losing herself to him kept her in a constant state of panic. She had watched countless girls pine for, and throw themselves at Edward. Offering themselves like sacrifices on an altar to be used in hopes of earning his favor. She loathed them, and him for treating them like objects only to be used for his pleasure and then thrown away. Was she becoming one of them? Would she betray herself?

Jake called her early on Tuesday and asked if she could help out on piano that night. "For who and what are the songs?" She bit her thumb and tried not to puke. Her nerves made her skin feel ready to jump off her body.

"Not sure who. I didn't take the call. Looks like it's all pretty standard stuff. I'll text you the list."

"You're paying me right?" Iz made sure her jitters stayed hidden and used her usual voice of indifference.

"As always. And if this guy sucks, you can step in and I'll pay you for the night."

"Alright. I'll be there."

"You're a life saver, Iz."

She hung up the phone and waited to see what songs she needed the music sheets for. The moment the text came through she knew it was Edward, and that he had done his homework. There wasn't a song on the list that didn't remind her of a movie. Except for two and those two might just break her. It felt like he was trying to get under her skin but she couldn't be sure why. Did he really want her or was she just another piece of ass to claim? She ran for the toilet and heaved when she realized it didn't matter what his reason was, she wanted him even more.

She wore her favorite halter top that left her back exposed, leather pants that fit her like a second skin, and red heels that matched her nails and lips. Iz soon realized that for the first time in years, she was more worried about how she would look, than how she would play. She slicked her hair into a high ponytail and left for the bar.

Walking the block and half in the crisp fall air helped calm her some and the shot of tequila she had once she got there made the thought of seeing him bearable. It was two hours before opening that she arrived to find him already on stage, waiting for her. They both acted like professionals who were there to play a gig. They did a run through of the set, deciding who would start, when, and noting any changes. Neither of them would make eye contact, and when they did it was painful. It was as though they were lovers who had been separated for years and wanted nothing more than embrace the other. To run into the other's arms and reunite. Yet, Iz stayed firmly planted in her seat, as did Edward.

He adjusted his microphone for the hundredth time and told her she was welcome to sing back up if she felt like it. "I don't need you to or anything. I just wanted you to know I wouldn't be pissed if you did."

"Thanks for your permission, dick." She shook her head and glanced over the music she had no need to look over again.

By eight o'clock they were ready to start. The crowd was small but energetic. Most of them were regulars who smiled and elbowed those near them when they saw Iz on stage. She had a reputation of always giving a great performance.

He started the first chords of Tighten Up and the crowd began to buzz. He moved his chair back just before they started so he could make eye contact with Iz more easily during the show. He wanted to watch her react to the words he sang. He hoped she understood his warning that he was falling for her and she better get ready.

Iz knew she was under attack. She felt his voice move through her, leaving a burn of desire deep in her bones in its wake. Edward wasn't singing for the crowd, he was singing for her and he meant it. There was still no way for her to determine if he was trying to get her for the night or a lifetime, but she didn't care. Her guard was slipping and she couldn't deny her desire for him much longer.

They played for an hour and on most songs she joined in and sang with him, but only when it highlighted his talent. This was his tryout to see if he could keep the monthly Saturday night spot at Jake's, and Iz wasn't giving up her chance at seeing him.

Every time he heard her voice, his heart skipped a beat, and his hope soared. He would have her and her heart, by the end of the night and he wasn't taking no for an answer. He sang with determination, and had never felt a high like seeing her respond before. He knew what a chick looked like when she wanted to get laid better than anything else, and Iz was damn near begging for it. Knowing that his singing could make her feel just as hers did him, gave him the encouragement to go on.

"Thanks for the great night. This is my last one for tonight. Be sure to watch the schedule here at Jake's to catch me next time and don't forget to tip your bartender." Edward smiled awkwardly and nodded his head before getting the crowd to clap along with him to the beat, and beginning the song that made her heart stop.

Her fingers moved on the keys on their own as she felt her palms sweat, her cheeks blush, and her nipples go hard, causing her to whimper. He sang the lines and she knew this was the moment she had to decide. The lyrics flowed from her perfectly and Edward didn't miss a beat, though he wanted nothing more than to run to her and kiss her perfect red lips.

_Do I wanna know_ - she sang

If this feeling flows both ways? - he echoed

_Sad to see you go_

Was sort of hoping that you'd stay

_Baby we both know_

That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day

They finished the song breathing heavily and so turned on that Edward held his guitar in front of him as he followed her off the stage and down the hall. She ran for the women's bathroom but he caught her arm and spun her around.

"Tell me you don't feel this and I'll walk away. Tell me your panties aren't soaked in desire and your nipples are hard because you're cold. Tell me to stop before I can't."

"I...I," she stuttered as she looked into his eyes and felt his hand clamp around her arm tighter. He put his guitar down and lifted his hand to her jaw. He cupped her cheek ever so gently and leaned in to finally taste her lips with his. She steadied herself by holding onto his forearm with one hand and his neck with her other. Tenderly he pressed his lips to hers and he was lost. He could taste the alcohol and lingering smoke in her breath and only knew he needed more. Soft pecks became pleading desperate kisses filled with want. Iz hummed and stepped closer to him. Her chest brushed his and he shuddered. Edward turned his head to kiss her deeper and nearly choked her with his tongue.

"Not here. This is where I work. My place is a block away," she said in a lust filled whisper.

"I can't stop," he said as he pulled her closer and rubbed his erection against her.

"I'm using the bathroom, grab your stuff." She ran to the bathroom and locked the door so she could catch her breath. She was fighting to pull her leather pants back on as he began to pound on the door.

She finished washing up, hurried out to grab his hand, and led him out the back to the alley. "Thank you for tonight. You were fucking perfect." The awe and respect in his tone surprisedher. She'd never heard him sound so sincere.

"You're welcome. You sounded great."

He couldn't watch her ass in those pants for another second without touching her, so he did. He reached down with the hand she held and grabbed her ass hard enough to leave a mark. She turned and with a smile rubbed herself against him. "If you'd just walk, you could have a hand full of skin instead of leather."

"Fuck. Can I carry you? I could run faster with you over my shoulder than you can walk in those things."

"Patience, asshole, or you'll blow your load before we even get there," she teased.

Iz started to walk faster backwards and all he could see was her tits bouncing harder. She wasn't wearing a bra and he shoved his hands into his pockets before he ripped her shirt off and fucked her in the alley that reeked of piss.

She turned back around and began to run, making him jog to keep up. "Your ass looks even better from here."

"Don't come in your jeans." She headed for a stairs and he followed her up the fire escape wincing from trying to climb stairs with a hard on.

She climbed through the window and stood on the inside waiting. He took his jacket off and then pulled his shirt over his head as he went to her. She lifted her own shirt off and threw it onto the bed. Their lips came together and once again his tongue was aimed at her tonsils.

"You can't kiss," she said as she pulled back."Stop that and follow my lead." She joined her lips back to his before he could reply and to her shock, he listened. She slowly ran the tip of her tongue along his and he reciprocated. He mirrored her perfectly and gave her hope that maybe he wouldn't be so bad in bed.

She ran her hands down his abs as he held onto her breasts, mesmerized by the barbells that ran through her nipples. She undid the buttons of his jeans and was pleasantly surprised by his nakedness that sprung into her hand. Stepping away, she went to her bedside table for a condom and began working her own pants off. Her heels were toed off and she wiggled much to his delight, revealing a bright red lace thong. Sitting on the bed, she pulled her pants off andthen promptly put her heels back on. The wrapper was torn and she rolled the condom on him before removing her thong and telling him to lay down.

He moved to the bed but she quickly corrected him. "No. On the floor."

He laid down on the deep navy carpet and she stood directly over him, with her heels at his hips. Edward's mind was spinning, never had he given up control or followed someone else's lead. But she wasn't just any girl and he couldn't wait to see what she'd do to him. He looked at the words in a heart over her sternum and longed to lick them. He wanted her to fuck him senseless and then fall asleep so he could read her flesh and learn her secrets.

Iz looked down and slowly lowered herself into a squat as she lined them up. She sank onto him and reached back to brace herself on his thighs. He reached for her and moved to sit up but she pushed him back and shook her head no. Using the strength in her legs, she slowly moved herself up and down his length. "Touch me," she ordered and placed his hand where they were joined.

Clearly, he was clueless so she pushed his hand out of the way and said, "like this." She watched him concentrate on her fingers and then slowly replace them with his own. "Stop watching yourself, or you'll come before me." She clenched herself and watched as his tongue peaked out from behind his lips from his concentrating so hard.

He looked into her eyes and told her she was fucking perfect.

She sighed and moved herself along him faster. The sound of his grunts and the slap of her ass against his thighs, filled the room. She knew he was going to come by the jerking movements of his hips. "Ah ah. Ladies first." She placed one of his hands on her ass and moved her fingers along with his until she felt herself ready to fall over the edge. "Look at me when I come on you."

She stared into his eyes and came hard enough to make her body jerk. She sighed as she rode out her orgasm and smiled down at him as she reached down to wrap her lust coated fingers around the base of his dick. Edward was trying to memorize the look of bliss on her face but he couldn't hold back any longer. He held onto her ass and forced her down onto himself harder and faster. He moaned and cursed as he came with his mouth open wide and his eyes shut tight. "Fuucckkk," escaped him one last time, before his head hit the floor and Iz stood up.

"Mmmm. Thanks, I needed that," she said and pulled her thong back on. She went to her dresser to get an oversized t-shirt and then put her heels in the closet. "You know how to get back to the bar from here, right?"

Breathless and confused he asked, "What?"

"How do I say this?" She tapped her foot and placed her index finger on her chin. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

"You want me to leave?" He was crushed. Never had he been the one tossed to the side.

"Yes. That's typically how it works. People fuck and then go home." Iz knew how easy it would be to curl up on his chest with his arms around her and drift off to sleep. She also knew cold sheets in the morning would sting.

"I get it. I didn't realize you were a heartless bitch. I only knew about the bitch part."

"Well now you know. I'll see you around I guess."

Edward gathered his clothes and turned his back on her as he dressed. He tied off the condom and threw it in the trash can. A humorless laugh escaped him. "Sure you will."

His body ached to go to her. To wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, but instead he climbed out the window and left without a word. She watched him leave and knew a part of her heart went with him. It pained her now, but she knew it would only be worse if she allowed herself to get more attached.

The bottle of tequila and pack of cigarettes didn't help. She was numb but could still feel where they had been joined, could see her kissed off smeared lipstick in the mirror. The way he listened to her and tried to please her is what pained her most. They could be so perfect together, but she wasn't willing to put herself out there to be broken by him when he tired of her or when the novelty wore off.

Edward went back to the bar, since it was still open, and he drank. He did shots of three wise men, in hopes of finding the wisdom Iz spoke of. He didn't find it. He found anger, at himself, at her, and at the bartender for not being her. He wanted to see her, touch her, he wanted to not be alone for one night. He wanted to learn all she had to teach him and make her come without her help.

She was his inspiration and his teacher, she simply couldn't leave him.

"Dude, we're closing up. Can I call you a cab?"

"No. I want her, take me to her," he slurred.

"Sorry. I don't know who you mean." Jake knew exactly who he meant but wasn't going to do anything Iz might not want.

"My muse." With that, he laid his head on the bar and passed out.

"Fuck. Leah, I need your help!. Let's get him in my office and let him sleep it off. I need you to call our girl and make sure she's alright."

Leah called and spoke to a very drunken Iz, who insisted she was fine and thanked Leah for her concern before asking her to kindly fuck off. Leah hung up, laughing, and told Jake the love birds had it bad and to give them some space.

Iz woke up early the next morning, despite her pounding headache, and got ready for work. She braided cornrows into her hair, put on her favorite button-down shirt over her tank top, and stepped back into her loose fitting jeans before lacing up her favorite black Doc Martens. She lit a cigarette as she stepped out her door and nearly tripped over Edward, holding his guitar, sound asleep on her doorstep. She nudged his leg with her boot. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and then running his hand down his face.

"It's you."

She nodded and bit her lip.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what this is. I only know I need you. Please let me."

"Let you what? Use me until you get bored and go back to getting head from bar sluts?" He had never seen her look so unsure of herself or tired.

Sadness overtook his features and he tried to explain. "No. I only want you and whatever you're willing to give me. Please, at least keep singing with me. I don't want it without you. Something in me changed, shifted, I won't go back. Sit down and let me show you."

Iz sat down mumbling about how one night with her couldn't possible make him this fucking weird. "Are you on something?"

"No." He giggled at the thought. "I'm hungover."

He stood and started to play his guitar, stumbling around a bit as his brain and fingers were slow to work together.

Iz didn't recognize the song but could feel the heartbreak he sang of. She could feel his longing sadness. By the time he finished singing for her, she was wiping away tears.

"That's my future if you don't let me in. I need you. In my soul I know it. You're my muse."

"I don't know how to be someone's muse, Edward," she said with her eyes shut tight and her hands pulling her hair back. "I don't even know what that means," she said, sounding scared.

"I want you to teach me everything. You inspire me to be more, to want more. Please, Iz," he pleaded. He'd never before spoken her name and hearing her nickname on his lips bothered her. She needed him to know her, all of her.

"Isabella, my name is Isabella." She smiled at him and left her doubt and fear on the door step. She flicked her cigarette into the street, stood on tip-toe in front of him, and pulled his face to hers. He responded by hugging her to himself and following her lead. He mimicked her kiss and found the balance between showing his need and expressing how much he treasured her. They pulled apart breathless and reeling. "You're one hell of a student." He smiled bashfully and nodded.

"You're an awesome fucking teacher," he said as he smirked. He moved his hand between them and easily into her loose jeans. With his hand on her back so she couldn't get away, he stroked her clit just like she showed him. Her legs shook as she reached behind for the door handle. She grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him inside. He pushed her against the wall as they walked in, so that he could feel her breasts in his palms.

She unhooked her bra for him and took off her shirts, but he never let up. When she reached for his jeans he shook his head no and said, "ladies first." He flattened his tongue and licked the heart on her chest before kissing it and then licking each of her barbells and tugging on them with his teeth. He noticed her chest flushing red and heard her heart pounding harder, so he pulled back to watch her face. His thumb held her lips open so she couldn't keep the sound of her orgasm to herself. She came on his fingers, yelling his name as her eyes rolled back, and nearly collapsed when her knees buckled.

They spent the week talking, singing, and fucking, until they knew each other inside and out. Neither of them would call it love, but they both knew it was their destiny. She was his muse and he was her freedom. He traced the words of Jim Morrison up her spine every night and held them in his heart - as did she.

_Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes._

_You are free._


End file.
